The following is part two of the Crime Hump Chronicles, a creative non-fiction narrative of quantum events.
Jan. 27, 2017
It’s kind of like a church, that’s found itself on the wrong side of the tracks. The lighting is dim and the people look grievous. Except it’s a converted office space, in an old, dirty strip mall, above a bowling alley. It resembles a bodega and I doubt the deals made here will be on the up and up, so to speak. The waiting area reminds me of a cheap laundromat. Everything here is old and worn, doesn’t look like it was meant to be here. This is court in small town Ontario.
I’m on a bench in a crowded room, waiting for my justice to arrive. I get a call. It’s my lawyer, the man I knew little about. He says he is in a meeting with the Crown’s inquisitor who I remembered to be a small and shabby man, who looked out of his depth despite his imposing title. My lawyer says he will be with me soon. He tells me to anticipate the show to start around 11:00am. A familiar face walks in. We’ve been in some of the same news papers. I know they’ve been here before. I want to say something but with a docket full of pre-trials and sentencing, sadly I know why they’re here.
There is a door at the end of the room and a strange window in the wall. Inexplicably, I’m drawn. What was once a one-way mirror, is now a foggy window. Disorientating, if you didn’t know where you were. That room is secured and I see court staff coming in and out. I see Detective Constable Rodcocker’s head poke out. It was hard and hot as usual. He was in a suit and tie this time, eagerly looking for the DNA samples that were conditions of sentencing. I assume he is taking the samples.
My lawyer arrives. He tells me that the Crown’s inquisitor agrees that the evidence does not match the charges. He tells me what they may offer. If it is anything but the withdrawal of all charges, I won’t agree. My lawyer tells me that trial will cost between $25-$50,000 and that I don’t have to make any decisions today. At first, the suggestion makes me angry. Now, I kind of think it’s funny. I don’t agree to the suggestion. I tell him about a series of things, that tell a different story.
My matter is called into court. My lawyer has me wait outside the court room. About 20 minutes later, he returns to the waiting room area. He immediately asks me for the series of things I had told him were pertinent to the case. He has a very different tone, erupting in questions. He tells me the matter has been stayed over until Feb. 20.
So, the criminal matter of Denham vs. Stampy the Elephant will resume Feb. 20, 2017. As things stand now, trial seems inevitable and we are at the very beginning of what is sure to be an outrageous and shocking story about complacency, disregard and incompetence.
Smiths Falls Police
Lanark Leeds and Grenville
Author's Note:A creative non-fiction narrative of quantum events.
It all started in the Spring of 2015. A butterfly flapped its wings and sent me on course to my destiny. What started with a pocket-dial to an old friend, turned into a welfare check by police, that prompted a call to child protective services. This started a child protection investigation, that I would later be cleared of in court. Upon learning about the injustices of the child protection industry, I set out to make change. I requested a complaint procedure pamphlet on Jan. 12, 2016. Over the next few months, I moved through the complaint process until April 2016, when everything came to a standstill.
I awoke in the middle of the night, almost naked, to Detective Constable Rodcocker’s deep, penetrating voice. I jumped out of bed and straight into pants. I threw on the first shirt I saw. It was ripped and tattered and just barely covered my breasts. He brought me to my kitchen. He sat me in a chair. He told me what was about to happen. I initially protested, but was quickly made complacent by Det. Cst. Rodcocker and the other two male officers. They took everything capable of storing digital media and left.
I continued to advocate for change, until August 5th 2016, when Det. Cst. Rodcocker called me and asked my husband and I to come into the police station. Initially, he did not want to tell us we were being charged, but I refused to come in otherwise. We agreed that my husband and I would come in the following Monday. He said we would be released right away.
I went in first, at the agreed upon time. I waited in the lobby of the police station for about 30 minutes, with a man I’ve never met before, a lawyer I knew almost nothing about. Two officers finally call me in. They tell me I am under arrest. I’m told to empty my pockets and take off my shoes. I am searched. They ask me to pull back my bra and an officer’s hand searches the inside. They put me in a cold, concrete cell. An officer asks if I want toilet paper. I assume I’m being held for bail, until Det. Cst. Rodcocker opens the cell door and brings me to an interview room. I remain silent but he interrogates me for over an hour. I am released. I’ve never been so glad to see the man I’d never met before, the lawyer I knew little about.
Part of my release conditions included a condition that I was not allowed to be in possession of anything capable of connecting to the internet. This condition was varied in November 2016, allowing me back online if I did not write about the agency. I begin advocating again.
Also in November 2016, police had reason to attend my residence. The same officer that had attended our home a year before, responded. He made the same complaint to child protection services that he had made the year before. This time, we quashed the agency’s court application and were awarded legal costs.
In December 2016, my husband’s charges were dropped.
On January 27th, 2017, I attend court again for pre-trial. The uphill battle I have fought, continues and I will continue to advocate.
Tags: Smiths Falls Police CAS
This article isn’t really breaking the law.
Of course, I would never breach an undertaking. I was released from police custody, and signed a document that swore I would not do that. I am to keep the peace, be of good behaviour and have certain limitations regarding the subject of my writings.
Before I was arrested for being an alleged hacker, I had been writing about the child protection industry, and still am to the extent that I can with my release conditions. I was learning about service delivery, performance indicators and fund allocations. I have conducted a few interviews, as a concerned member of the public, that I feel clarifies what I was worried about. The problems with child welfare in Ontario, are not complicated. As with most problems in this world, if we follow the money (or lack thereof) we find that all problems can be reduced to the simple equation that is, a balanced budget.
A balanced budget is great when managing household expenses, or determining the profitability of a company. When your revenues might not always match up with your expenditures, a balanced budget can help prevent financial disaster. Funds can be diverted and appropriated where necessary.
So how does this model play out in the private non-profit sector, where most social service agencies operate and where the “expenditures” are usually people in need? Can we ethically and morally divert funds? Will Ontario face financial disaster from helping these people?
I don’t buy it. I don’t think the abuse that may come from guaranteeing resources for all who need it even compares to the abuse a child being protected by an understaffed agency may endure. The balanced budget model doesn’t work on people, especially children.
The problems with all social services in Ontario, are not complicated. It’s all about the bottom line, and how actually helping people, just doesn’t fit the budget. Children do not come first in Ontario, money does.
I am learning the awesome power of the pen. Having your say, can lead to change, but it can also cause adversity. But then again, overcoming adversity generally leads to change as well.
What is illegal for me to write about today, might not be soon and is certainly not illegal for anyone else to write about. So, pardon my elephant, so to speak. My elephant, I’ve nicknamed Stampy, is a bit of a jerk. I have lots more to say, once I say it to a Judge first. Stay tuned.